Ten Little Nations
by ShadowDragon30
Summary: England and America make a bet on who could scare the other 1st. But when a poem appears on the walls of the Tower of London in blood, their stay takes horrific twist. Is the tower cursed? The only way to know is to survive the night. M for violence
1. Prologue: Ten

**ShadowDragon again! With yet another Hetalia story!**

**'Tis Halloween, the season for tricks, treats, and an overall fright! In celebration of tomorrow being the opening night to my High School's Haunted House/maze (I'm Jack the Ripper), I'm publishing this horror story!**

**This time, we've got a crossover of Agatha Christie's murder mystery, "And Then There Were None" (AKA "Ten Little Indians"), and Hetalia**

**Actually, this fanfic is inspired by A combination of "And Then There Were None" by Agatha Christie, Andrew Vance's "Daemon Hall" (which references "And Then There Were None") and an APH Fanfic here entitled "Hearts Pounding" (I must apologize that I can't remember the name =/). These are the things that inspired me to write this ^^**

**Ladies and gentlemen, I give you "Ten Little Nations"!**

**.:Prologue: Ten:.**

"Alright, git, we're here."

The speaker was a rather short nation with tousled blond hair, huge eyebrows, and jade eyes. Judging by the man's appearance and southern English accent, the nation was no other than Britain. The nation stood in the center of his capital, London. From amongst the crows of tourists and citizens, the Briton gazed up at a massive, medieval fort structure that appeared out of place amidst the skyscrapers scattered throughout the surrounding city.

"Welcome to the Tower of London, America."

Behind the Britain, a younger-yet slightly taller- blond nation shifted from one foot to another impatiently. At the Englishman's stantement, the nation gazed up at the for, blue eyes examing the structure from behind a set of glasses. After a few moments, America responded.

"Cool, Iggy!" He paused slightly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "This doesn't have anything to do with our bet, does it?"

The American smirked as his british friend's eyes widened in surprise. When England tried to deny it, the former colony laughed. Evey year during October, the two nations held a bet to see who could scare the other nation first. The concept had originally been America's attempt to convince England to celebrate Halloween with him- not to mention that the expression of the british nation's face when he was frightened was priceless. However, so far, this plan had backfired. In the past decade, England had won the bet 9 times, and America had won… once. Such a humiliating number of losses was unfitting for a hero! But this time, Alfred had figured out Arthur's plans ahead of time: somehow the Brit planned to scare him during their overnight stay in the Tower of London. Now that he knew that, there was no way he'd lost!

England scowled darkly at the grinning nation. "Whatever git, just hurry up. The others are waiting for us…"

America gave the brit a puzzled look. "Others?" England didn't respond, choosing instead to start walking towards the Tower of London. Not wanting to be left behind, the American trailed after him."

"Ve? America is here!"

Upon reaching the gates of the Tower of London, Alfred was greeted by a small, bubbly brunet, otherwise known as Italy. To be specific, this was the younger, Northern half of Italy, Italy Veneciano. Shortly after Veneciano's greeting, Germany approached America; followed by Spain, who was half dragging, half hugging Veneciano's older-and angrier-brother, Italy Romano, alongside him. After they appeared, Japan, France, Russia, and China also greeted the younger nation.

"You brought them here too?" America asked in surprise. This wasn't part of the bet... was it?

England nodded. "France," he spat the name angrily. "Harrassed me into letting him come. He then invited Spain, who invited Romano, who dragged Veneciano here… and it trickled down from there."

America nodded slowly. "Alright… Well, in that case, lets go!" The former british colony took up a heroic stance before charging through the open gate and into the tower.

England shook his head in disapproval. "Honestly, what can't that twit be patient?" He sighed before beckoning for the rest of the nations to follow him into the tower. _'America won't be so eager to stay here by the end of the night…'_


	2. Nine

**Hey guys! Thanks for tuning in ^^**

**Sorry this took forever, I've been busy beyond rational thought with Haunted House (I am an awesome Jack the Ripper apparently… and my friend, "Mrs. Lovett" is a major Hetalia fan too ^^), researching for this, and taking a college level History test on India!**

**Well, here's it is: Chapter 9 (there's a reason for that, you'll just have to wait and find out**

**.:Nine:.**

"…And here we have the Bloody Tower. As the name suggests, alongside the White Tower, the Bloody Tower is witness to some of the darkest tragedies and deaths to occur here. For instance, after King Edward IV's death, his son, Edward V, was destined to inherit the throne. Instead, Edward V and his brother Richard were declared illegitimate heirs by the Parliament, and their uncle took the throne. Later, their uncle, King Richard III, ordered for the boys to be murdered, and their bodies buried beneath the stairs of the White Tower. Visitors still claim to see the wraiths of two whimpering children cowering in fear here in their prison and the place of their death, the Bloody Tower."

Alfred shivered at the thought. He never fully realized how gory England's history truly was. The Briton spoke of betrayals, massacres, and throne usurpers as calmly as he would explain his latest scone recipe. It was disturbing.

By the looks of it, America wasn't the only nation who had been disturbed by England's tale ("W-what? M-m-me? S-scared? N-no w-way! H-heroes aren't s-s-scared of anything! Especially n-not gh-gh-ghost!") Italy had a death grip on Germany's arm; China was shifting uneasily from foot to foot (though that was probably because Russia was looming directly behind him); and Romano was swearing angrily at Spain. The Spaniard mistook the Italian's uncontrollably shivering in fear for being cold, so he tried to warm him up the only way he knew how: with a hug. Romano irritably shoved Spain away before glaring at England.

"I'm hungry. When can I get some food that doesn't taste like shit? Or is all English food horrible?" He grumbled.

England's face twitched into a scowl as he glowered at his rude guest. After a few moments he pointed down the empty hall they had just left.

"I haven't locked the gates… yet. Just in case anyone is too scared to stay the night-" Alfred and Arthur exchanged icy glares. "-there are plenty of shops within walking distance."

"Ve! Fratello, let's go get pasta," Italy exclaimed excitedly, releasing Germany in order to join his brother.

"Whatever bastardo, you're paying for us," Romano scoffed before walking away, Italy trailing behind like a lost puppy. As soon as the pair disappeared, England continued the tour.

"After Edward VI's death, Queen Mary I ascended to the throne. The name may not ring a bell to any of you, but a few may recognize her nickname, Bloody Mary." Arthur paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "The Queen certainly earned her title. Bloody Mary burned protestant Christians at the stake, beheaded Anglican Bishops, and terrorized citizens who refused to acknowledge the Roman Catholic faith."

Britain shuddered at the memories that flooded his mind. Innocent blood spilt by his insane, tyrant boss. So much blood, he thought the Thames River would run red….

"Countless innocents died at here hands before Bloody Mary finally died of cancer at the age of 43," he continued, voice reduced to a low whisper. "Never the less, the blood she spilled still taints the grounds of the Tower of London. The restless spirits of her victims and even her own hellish spirit still wander the grounds, searching for revenge…"

An uneasy silence filled the room. The nations shuffled awkwardly as they watched England. The Island country was lost in thought, a vacant expression crossing his face. America reached out to comfort- err, knock some sense into- Britain, but a pair of horrified screams interrupted him. The screams caused the countries to all jump in surprise- except for Russia, whose violet eyes lit up at the sound of the tortured screaming.

"What was that, aru?"

"Someone is in trouble, da?"

"I didn't say anything, did you Angleterre?"

As the nations tried to discover the source of the screams, two nations stood stock still in a mix of surprise and concern. Spain and Germany shot panicked glances between one another before turning and sprinting down the hall,

"Feliciano!"

"Ay, mi Lovi~!"

America raced after the two countries, the rest of the group likewise following them. He had completely forgotten about the two Italians. Rounding the corner, Alfred nearly bulldozed over Germany and a sobbing Italy Veneciano. Germany had his hand clasped to Italy's shoulders and was shaking him lightly.

"Italy! What's wrong?"

"Th-the p-p-p-pasta," Italy sobbed. "It's h-h-horrible! D-doitsu! Wh-why does England's f-f-food suck?"

America finally noticed the small plate of pasta Feliciano was holding. Relief flooded through the hero's veins. For a moment he had thought the gh-ghost of Bloody Mary had attacked him…

… But where was Romano? America looked away from the younger Italian in time to see Spain rush up to the irate brunet and try to comfort him. Romano was completely rigid as he stared in shock at something on the wall. As he moved closer to get a better look at the wall, Alfred's blood ran cold.

Blood. Blood was slowly dripping down the wall, oozing over the gray stone bricks. At first, the grotesque sight didn't fully register in his mind; however, when he noticed that the blood formed surprisingly elegant script, realization dawned on his face.

Ten little nations were feeling pretty fine,

One fell down into a pit

And then there were nine

Nine little nations, now questioning their fate

One was hung by the neck

And then there were eight

Eight little nations, one was praying to heaven

He was spirited away

And then there were seven

Seven little nations were stuck in quite a fix

One was tortured to death

And then there were six

Six little nations were running for their lives

One was caught and hacked in half

And then there were five

Five little nations were looking to settle the score

Hellhounds maimed and mauled one

And then there were four

Four little nations, hiding a tree

One fell out and broke his neck

And then there were three

Three little nations, this curse the began to rue

One was stabbed through the heart

And then there were two

Two little nations, both were on the run

One was dragged into the night

And then there was one

One little nation almost lived to see the sun

Poor thing went insane…

…And then there were none.

By the time Alfred finished reading, the rest of the nations were gaping at the poem too. America glanced at the England face, trying to read his facial expression. Arthur's face had gone completely pale at the sight, all the blood draining from his face. The smaller blond looked as if he'd pass out at any moment from shock. In the American's opinion, this was not a good sign…

Finally, after several long moments, Italy spoke up.

"Ve! Let's get out of here!"

A murmur of agreement spread through the crowd. If this place really was haunted by evil spirits out for revenge, they couldn't stay here any longer. Slowly but surely, a few of the countries edged toward the door, only to freeze at America's response.

"No."

The country ambled over to England before jabbing a finger into the Brit's chest. A smirk crossed the taller blonde's face as he met the Briton's gaze with his own.

"I don't believe this BS. There's no way this curse is real. You probably painted this onto the wall while nobody was looking, England. This is all just an elaborate scheme."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about git? How could I have written that when I've been giving you a tour for the past 2 hours?" England retorted, large eyebrows furrowed in anger.

America rolled his eyes before pacing towards the blood coated wall. "Yeah, right," he replied sarcastically. "And I bet this is real blood too…"

The nation ran a finger through the reddish substance before tasting it. Instantly, his eyes widened in surprise as a coppery taste filled his mouth. Immediately, Alfred spat it out in disgust. "What the hell? What kind of sick joke is this, Iggy? Using real blood for a prank?"

"I already told you blokes I didn't do this!" England warned.

"Yeah, well if you didn't, who did?"

The argument was interrupted by a harsh scream from China. Wang Yao's suddenly dropped out of sight as the tile floor beneath him disappeared, revealing a seemingly bottomless pit below. The nation clung for dear life to the edge of the pit as the other nations scrambled towards him. Unfortunately, the tile floor was near impossible to hold on to and before he knew it, China's fingers were slipping. With a final yell, he fell, disappearing into the darkness below.

And then there were nine.

**Wow… That took longer to type than I thought… But it's done! Taa daa!**

**Reviews are love. **

**PS: Feel free to take a stab at what parts of the poem correspond with whom during reviews. I used to do this all the time with Jurassic Park movies …**


	3. Eight

**I'm baaack~**

**And I brought the newest Chapter with me**

**I don't own Hetalia or Agatha Christie's publishing rights.**

**If I did…. Well, I'd be rich…**

**.:Eight:.**

"Waaah! We're all gonna die! We're all gonna diiiieeeee!"

While Germany poorly attempted to calm down Italy, the rest of the nations swarmed England, eager for a rational explanation to China's untimely demise.

"Angleterre! What is the meaning of this?"

"China is dead, da?"

"This is a sick joke, verdad?"

England was silently staring into the depths of the pit that had been the cause of China's disappearance. After several long minutes of eerie silence, the island nation addressed the others.

"I'm afraid we'll have to cut this tour short. I'll send Scotland Yard in here to investigate the disappearance as soon as the rest of you are safe—"

"We're no leaving without China!" America protested angrily. "I'm the hero! And heroes don't leave their friends behind…"

Too late. Despite America's inspiring speech, both Italy Romano and Italy Veneciano had bolted in a mad dash to the main gats of the British fortress. Spain, Germany, France, and Japan follow shortly after them. This left England and America alone in the Bloody Tower… Oh, and Russia was there too, but the other two world powers were trying desperately to ignore him as he grinned sadistically while staring into the pitch black depths of the hole and occasionally muttering a "kolkolkol…"

"This is really low, Iggy. Even for you," America chastised, examining the blond Briton suspiciously.

England scowled at his former colony. "Are you daft? For God's sake, Alfred, I've already told you I didn't plan this! My plan was to drag you here, terrify you with horror stories until you lost our bloody bet! I had no intention for this…"

England gestured toward the pit and the ominous poem on the wall, a sorrowful expression crossing his face. America opened his mouth to argue, but several loud shouts of dismay interrupted him.

"Damn… not again," Alfred growled, charging after the rest of the countries. Arthur hurried after the taller nation, muttering a few swears of his own. When the pair finally caught up with the rest of the group, England's abnormally large eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?"

The small group of nations parted to reveal an outraged Romano tugging at the cast iron bars to the main gate. England's eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't locked the Tower of London's gates, so who did?

"Damnit! Hurry up and raise these stupid gates, bastard!" Romano swore angrily.

England scowled once again, partially in annoyance directed at Romano, partially in confusion over this scenario.

"I can't," he stated bluntly.

"Why the hell can't you?" Romano growled.

"These blasted iron gates aren't used for locking up the Tower at night, and for good reason too," England explained, gesturing towards a nearby lever designed to raise and lower the gates in question. "The lever is rusted in place."

Sure enough, even the combined forces of America, Spain, and Germany couldn't make said lever budge. By now, the group had begun to panic. Britain quickly moved to the front of the cluster of nations in an attempt to calm his fellow countries.

"Calm down, for God's sake! I would've been daft to build the Tower of London and not create multiple exits. Surely we can use the side gates to—"

England had to dodge to the side to avoid being trampled by Italy, Romano, France, and the rest of the countries as they rushed past him in search of the exit.

"Damnit, England! None of these doors work!" Romano grumbled irritable.

The nations had spent the majority of the past hour checking every gate to the ancient fort. Much to their dismay, all the gates were sealed shut.

"Arthur-san, isn't there any other way out?" Japan asked nervously.

England paced back and forth, wracking his brain for an answer; it had been centuries since the blonde world power had checked the blueprints to the tower of London. If there had been any secret escape route, he would've forgotten about it by now…

…Or not.

"Yes," Britain finally concluded. "There's a secret passageway that leads out of the Tower and onto the Tower hill just outside the gates."

"Wunderbar, now where is this escape route?" Germany questioned.

England frowned as he struggled to remember. "I… don't know… but I know it's here somewhere!" He quickly added the last bit. "If we split into groups, I'm sure we can find it. Germany, Italy, and Japan can search the Royal Chapel, Waterloo Barracks, Boyer Tower, and Martin Tower. America, France and I will search the Queen's House, Wakefield Tower, and the Bloody Tower. That leaves the Develin Tower, the Armory, Constable Tower, and the White Tower to Spain, Romano, and…. Wait, where's Russia?"

The group glanced about anxiously in search of the violet eyed nation, scanning the grounds and nearby towers for any signs of him. Suddenly, Italy screamed, pointing in horror up towards a window in the Bloody Tower. It was hard to see, but America could vaguely see a tall figure swing back and forth in the window as he dangled from a noose around his neck.

_Once was hung by his neck,_

_And then there were eight._

"Looks like we need to hurry in our search," England murmured faintly.

**Wow that's what 3 hours on sitting with a blank sheet of paper in front of me produced….**

**I sincerely apologize to any Russia fans… I had originally planned to kill him later, but I decided to have him swap deaths with *insert name of doomed country here***

**Well tune in next week (or sooner, possibly Wednesday this week) for Seven! (I changed the chapter titles so that the Prologue is now 10. Please don't kill me!)**


	4. Seven

**Gah! Starting my newest fic took longer than expected!**

**Sorry to keep you all waiting! I just keep getting idea after idea for new stories! I'm gonna stick to three (plus one I need to write for a gift exchange) for now, and I'll rotate which ones I update. The order is Ten Little Nations, RomaHeta, then The Little Norway. And repeat.**

**Sorry for the delay! Enjoy!**

**.:Seven:.**

"Waaaah! I don't wanna dieeee!"

Germany sighed. "For the last time, Italy, we are not going to die!" He shouted while forcibly shoving the brunette off of him. It had barely five minutes since the group had split up, and already the Italian was in hysterics… Not that Germany could quite blame him. In fact, in comparison to the time Italy had started crying when a cat "attacked" (or rather "licked") him, the Mediterranean nation was actually being brave.

The former Axis powers were investigating the Royal Chapel, as directed by England. While Japan was searching the northern half of the Chapel for hidden passageways, Italy was standing in the doorway while Germany attempted to coax him inside. In other words, Germany was threatening the sobbing Italian. Finally determining that such tactics wouldn't convince the Italian, Germany took a different approach. Instead, he used force.

"waaah! Germany! Germany! Put me down!" Italy wailed as the German hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him into the Chapel. Despite his protests, the brunet clung to his captor for dear life. Germany had to force the smaller nation off of him, keeping a firm grip on his shoulders to keep the shorter nation from doing what he does best: fleeing.

"Feliciano! You're okay! Quit whining!"

Gradually, the Italian calmed down. The shorter nation glanced around the inside of the chapel before his gaze returned to the German.

"Ve! I don't see any secret passages! Can we go get pasta yet, Ludwig?"

At the request, Germany facepalmed. This was going to be a long night…

France shuddered involuntarily as he followed Britain and America into the Bloody Tower. And he had thought Russia was creepy! By now, France would have rather "become one with Russia" than be trapped in this accursed tower…

It didn't help that this was where Russia had…. Yeah…

"Well… where should we start our search, Mon Amis?" France asked, breaking the eerie silence.

England paused. "We'll work from the top down." He explained, causing the other two to jump at the thought.

"Monsieur! But that means-"

"Yes, we'll start in the room Russia died in." Without waiting for the others to argue, Britain strode past them and up the ancient stairwell. America and France glanced anxiously between themselves before following him up the stairs…

At the top of the stairs, the trio regrouped just outside the room. The last time they checked, Ivan's body had been swing to and fro from a noose. The group silently exchanged looks, bracing themselves for the worst. Taking a deep breath, Alfred cast a final look at his friends before lunging through the doorway, cringing when he saw Russia….

…Was no were to be found…

America gaped in shock. Ivan's body was nowhere, as if he had never existed. England and France were equally shocked.

"Wh-what? What's going on?" England asked in utter confusion. America ignored him, choosing instead to survey the room. This absolutely made no sense. How could a 5'11" dead Russian disappear without a trace? They can't. America continued to question the scenario, but before he reached a conclusion, a sudden shout interrupted his train of thought.

"Merde!" Francis practically shrieked, leaping before a deathly pale England for protection. When Alfred followed the pair's line of sight he quickly figured out why.

A shadowy, almost human form glided across the hall. The creature stopped, turning to stare at the trio before gliding down the stairs and vanishing from sight. The trio just stared in its general direction in shock for what seemed like hours.

"Iggy?" America gulped. "W-what the hell was that?"

Germany sighed as he watched Italy's antics. Sometime during their search, the brunet had slunk to the front of the chapel. After producing a Rosary from seemingly out of nowhere, the smaller nation had begun to go through his "Hail Marys", shaking in terror the entire time. Germany had almost forgotten how incredibly Catholic his friend was…

"Feliciano, are you going to help us search of not?" the blond inquired. Not that the Italian had been much help in the first place… Germany was just tired of having to drag him everywhere.

"Ve! But Ludwig! I'm only halfway through the prayer! Besides, it's really calming!" Feliciano explained eagerly. Germany couldn't argue with the logic there. After all, a calm Northern Italy was far better than a crying one… Still, the taller nation couldn't help but feel as if something was wrong…

Shoving any concerning thoughts from his mind, Germany continued his search. He double checked the altar Japan had examined earlier, pausing long enough to watch the candelabras' flames flicker and dance. That was weird. Since when had those been lit? Germany's brow furrowed as he thought about that, and gradually his earlier thoughts returned.

"_Ve! I'm only halfway through the prayer!"_

Germany scowled. Why was that phrase concerning him so much? He had a foreboding feeling about it…

_Eight little Indians, one was praying to the heavens,_

_He was spirited away…_

A horrified look crossed Germany's face as realization dawned upon it. Suddenly, the flames of the candelabras immediately extinguished, plunging the group into darkness. The chapel doors burst open, as if kicked.

"ITALY!"

The brunet shouted in terror as an unseen force grabbed him. He squirmed and clawed at the ground as he was dragged away by his ankles.

"Germany! Japan! Heeelp!"

Germany attempted to rush to Feliciano's aid, but he felt his own movements being restrained by said invisible force. Japan was likewise restrained. As the pair struggled, they were helpless to watch as their Italian friend was dragged into the night.

"Feliciano!"

…_And then there were seven…_

**Whew…thanks for the patience. Hope yah liked it!  
**

**I always felt like if the hetalians had any religious beliefs, Romano and Italy would be catholic…**

**Anyways, reviews are love~ If you love this story, the review it ;)**


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